


New Year Lucky Dip

by CabbageFlower



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, F/M, Internalised ableism, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabbageFlower/pseuds/CabbageFlower
Summary: Jaime is on holiday in Tarth in Winter.  There isn't that much to do.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	New Year Lucky Dip

**Author's Note:**

> This is about depression and the British seaside in winter so is a bit bleak. But there are signs of hope towards the end.

NEW YEAR LUCKY DIP said the poster in big red capitals. Underneath was a picture of a group of people waving at the camera with grey sky and greyer sea behind them. Proceeds to the RNLI and North Tarth Foodbank it said underneath. Midday on the Beach Behind The Blue Knight. Jaime leaned across the counter to catch the very tall barmaid’s eye and waved his glass vaguely in the direction of the paper. “Another one, Sir?” she asked. “No,” he said, “I mean yes, yes another drink but also what’s this? New Year Lucky Dip? What’s that?” She took the glass. Her arms were so long she didn’t need to move from where she stood. “Oh that. It's just a local thing. Just something we do.” She was blushing again. Why the devil did she blush so much? Not really what you want in a barmaid – an extreme tendency to blush whenever anyone spoke to her. Mind you Jaime had started to find it oddly amusing to see how often he could make her do it. God he was bored. There was literally nothing to do on Tarth in the dead week between Christmas and New Year. He didn’t know why he had let Tyrion persuade him to come. Not that he had anywhere better to be or anything else to do back in KL.

“Come on” he said with a charming smile. (A grade five.) “What is it? A local thing – some old Tarthian custom. A fertility rite?”. Her blush deepened but she didn’t smile back. “No,” she said, turning away to pour his pint of Evenstar. As she turned back he smiled at her again. A grade six – that should be enough for a bloody barmaid.  
“Come on,” he said again. “Tell me. It's for charity right? If you tell me I might give some money.”  
She put the glass down on the counter. “It’s a sponsored swim. In the sea on New Year's Day. It’s a good way to start the year – the water is cold but it's fun. Some people dress up and then everyone comes back to the pub for sausages and hot chocolate.” That was more of an answer than he expected from such a surly wench. The grade six had worked. “You could come if you wanted. A lot of people come – not all to swim, some come just to watch.” His smile switched off. To watch, not to swim. A one handed man couldn’t swim she obviously meant. “Want me to admire you in your swimming costume do you?” he said. “Not sure that is enough to tempt me out of bed on New Year's morning.”

He could see her in the picture on the poster but she was standing at the back so all that was really on view was her head and shoulders – white and wide and freckled under broad sensible navy straps. “It's not till noon,” she said. “But no one is asking you to come.” She turned away. He picked up his drink. At least the beer was good.

After a while Bronn came over and asked if he wanted to join some darts tournament. Jaime just stared at him and waved his stump. Bronn went away. Then Tyrion came with Shae. They were both drunk. “Brother!” slurred Tyrion “Brother! Isn’t this a great pub! I am so glad you came. So good to be together so very far away from father. And from our sweet sister and that dreadful brat Joffrey. Now catch the eye of that giantess and buy more drinks.” Jaime obliged. Shae was very much Tyrion’s type but he didn’t know anything about her and wasn’t sure he could be bothered to find out. He wished Tyrion hadn’t mentioned Cersei. He wondered where she was – somewhere far more glamorous and expensive than the Blue Knight.  
That night – as was becoming normal for him – he couldn’t sleep. The rest of the house was quiet – Tyrion and Shae had been loudly shagging but had settled at last. Bronn had left the pub with a group of men saying he was going to play poker but he must have come back at some point because he was snoring in his room. Jaime got out of bed and went over to the window which faced out over the sea. The moon was up and nearly full. The sky stretched away from him scattered over with a mess of stars and the crests of the waves on the dark sea were silvery, reflecting their light. He stood there for a long time looking out but the night was indifferent to him. Eventually he went back to bed.

The next day there was nothing to do. Bronn appeared briefly but left saying he was going to some bike track on the other side of the island. “You don’t have your bike with you,” objected Tyrion. “Bloke’s gonna lend me his” was the reply. After breakfast Tyrion moved to the sofa where he sat with a hardback in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other. Shae lay in his lap and from time to time he put his whisky down to stroke her like a cat. Jaime went for a walk up to the cliff top. The sea was a greyish blue all the way to the horizon. A long way off a couple of boats slowly crossed paths and there were birds of some kind but no land to be seen. It was as if he was completely alone in the world. He walked back to the pub. Just after midday it was empty of customers. The tall barwench was there reading a book. “We don’t serve food at lunchtime” she said without looking up.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Just a pint of Evenstar”. She poured it and went back to reading her book. Jaime sat on a barstool, turned half on so that he could look out of the windows facing the sea. He sipped his beer and watched the waves. It was strangely peaceful. He wasn’t completely sure he liked being peaceful so he asked what she was reading. She raised her book without speaking so he could see the title. “New Readings in Social Justice”  
“A great read” he said, “Lots of sex and violence.”  
“Yes, actually” she replied. “Social Justice is a lot about sex and violence”  
He nearly laughed. “I should have known that would be your thing.” She scowled at him and said nothing.  
“Seriously though – why are you reading it? Are you a student?”  
She put the book down and looked at him crossly. “What is this?” she said. “If I am just a barmaid it's okay to be rude, but if I am a student then I am worth your time?”   
He stared at her, taken aback. Tried a charming smile but somehow could only muster a grade three which wasn’t enough. She continued to glare at him challengingly until he looked down first. “I’m having a hard time at the moment,” he said. “Sometimes that means I’m not that good with people.” She looked at him a little longer. “Okay,” she said. “But you need to try.” “Okay” he said. “I’ll try.” 

After that she did talk to him - she was indeed a student, training to be a social worker but her Dad owned the pub so she worked there during the holidays. She wanted to be a social worker because she thought it was important to help those who were more vulnerable - especially women and children. She loved the sea and her island. She didn’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend. She didn’t know any good jokes. Her favourite band was a local group from Tarth that he hadn’t heard of. Her name was Brienne. He told her a few of the more bearable stories from his army days and the more repeatable stories about Tyrion and Bronn. He didn’t tell her how unhappy and lonely and lost he felt and that he had no fucking clue about what he was doing with his life but that probably came across. 

At some stage she made him a sandwich - ham and pickle. It was a good sandwich. She charged him for it - though much less than he might have paid in King's Landing. After a while other customers came in and she had to serve them but he stayed in the warm pub and drank another pint. This time she gave him an Unsullied - alcohol free she said, better for him than another proper beer. It was okay for something without alcohol.   
When he got back to the cottage there was loud music and a lot of giggling coming from the sitting room. It didn’t seem a good idea to go in so he went up to his room and fell asleep. When he woke up it was dark and Shae was knocking at his door to tell him it was dinner time. 

Tyrion had made some kind of complicated curry with lots of weird spices. “What’s the meat?” Jaime asked. “Venison,” said Tyrion. “Bronn got hold of it from somewhere. It's probably poached because it came in a plastic bag.” Shae was sitting on his lap. He lifted a forkful of curry to her mouth and she leant forward with parted lips to swallow it. Jaime looked away.  
“Where is Bronn?” He had gone to some football match nearby.   
“Did he grow up here or something? He seems very involved in island life already”.   
Tyrion looked up from sucking Shae’s neck. “I think he just makes friends easily.” He didn’t seem very interested in the question.  
As Jaime took his plate through to the kitchen he heard Shae say “I think we are embarrassing your brother.” “Oh don’t worry about it,” Tyrion replied. “Jaime’s very uptight.”

He couldn’t go back to the pub again and he didn’t know what else there was to do so he walked along the beach. With no distance or glass between him and the water he could hear the waves gather and break. He walked a long way north along the shoreline before turning and walking back. It was cloudy: the moon was half hidden and the light gauzy. When he was nearly home the pub came into view, brightly lit and with a happy buzz of noise spilling out into the quiet night. He hesitated but didn’t go in. Instead he went home and fell quickly into a deep sleep.

That night he had a strange dream. He dreamt of walking along the shoreline again in the dark but this time there were noises in the night - the faint sound of drones, the cries of women and children in pain, the voices of his former squad mates. At first they called out to him wordlessly but then the sounds reshaped themselves. They were calling his name and telling his darkest secret. “Jaime, Jaime, you failed us, you failed us, you failed Jaime, you failed.” Then Cersei was there - standing before him, under a streetlight that was in the middle of the beach for some reason. The electric light shone on her golden hair and alabaster skin - he ran towards her but the more he ran the further away she seemed to be - smaller and smaller but glowing with light. “Hurry Jaime,” she said, “Before the light goes out.” The light was getting dimmer, Cersei was turning away. And then he was alone in the dark, alone with only the reproachful voices. He spun around wildly then began running this way and that in the dark. The sound of the waves was getting louder, the tide must be coming in - the water was lapping around his ankles, the cliffs loomed high and dark above him. Were they coming closer? He was going to die, he knew - he would drown or the cliffs would fall on him and crush him. But then the moon came out - its light strong and silvery, cutting across the darkness. And then Brienne was there - standing in the silver light, taller than she could possibly be, tall and strong like a statue of a warrior goddess. She said again what she had said in the pub that afternoon. “Some people need help to fight for justice. I want to be that help.” He fell over at her feet, the water washing over his knees. She looked at him. “You have to try,” she said. The waves were breaking over him, his throat filled with terror and cold saltwater. “I don’t want to die”, he said. “No, no, no, noooooo!” Heart pounding he jerked awake and knew it was true. He didn’t want to die - he wasn’t sure how to live but he didn’t want to die. 

“I want to start living again,” he told Tyrion at breakfast. Bronn wasn’t there - gone to a car boot sale apparently. Shae was in the bathroom. She hadn’t let Tyrion join her for once. “She’s probably waxing her legs or bleaching her moustache or something,” he said fondly. Jaime didn’t care - he was just glad to be alone with his brother for five minutes. “I know I haven’t been easy lately,” he said. “But I am going to try now.”   
Tyrion snorted. “Try what,” he said. “Anything specific in mind?”  
“I don’t know, specifically. I need to work it out. But I am going to start now with this holiday. Having more fun, doing more things. I am thinking of doing the New Year Lucky Dip for example.”   
Tyrion looked at him quizzically. “That wouldn’t be where most people would start.” Jaime just shrugged sheepishly.   
“Oh well,” said Tyrion. “You probably won’t drown and I don’t have any better ideas.” However he eyed his elder brother suspiciously until Shae came down and distracted him. 

Jaime cleared the breakfast things and stacked the dishwasher. It took a long time to do with only one hand. He even made a desultory attempt to wipe the stove and kitchen surfaces. Eventually he gave up. “I’m just going for a walk.” 

He went down to the beach. It was mostly empty - a group of children were huddled together building complicated fortifications in the damp sand under the direction of a small girl in a comically big red winter coat. A woman threw a ball into the shallows for a demented labrador to run and fetch. And then there was the barwench - running along the sand. The muscles of her absurdly long legs stretched and tightened with every stride, her feet landing in the sand left huge prints, impossibly far apart. She ran well with a good even pace, as if she would never tire, as if she could run all the way around the island. As she passed him she recognised him and waved but did not stop. He waved back. Running she was transformed - graceful, strong, confident and happy, her eyes bright from the exertion. He watched her run down the shore, under the pier and round the headland till she was out of sight and then went back to the cottage. His own body felt oddly buoyant almost as if it remembered the joy of exercise, the endorphins coursing through the blood. 

He spent the day with Tyrion and Shae. They went into town where Tyrion found a second hand bookshop. Luckily the local history museum was closed but the Winter Gardens were open so they had tea in the shade of the drooping palms. Tyrion held up most of the conversation - gossip about various relatives interspersed with political gossip. But it was good. A good day, a normal day. 

That evening - New Year’s Eve - they went together to the Blue Knight. The pub was very full so Brienne was busy all night. There was music and dancing - Shae led Tyrion out onto the dance floor but all he would do was stand still, gyrating his hips not quite in time with the music. Eventually Jaime joined them - perhaps a bit drunk. Tyrion was singing along to the music but making up absurd alternative lyrics. Shae danced well - lithe and sexy with good rhythm, she was attracting a lot of male attention. Tyrion didn’t seem to mind but it made Jaime uneasy. However as soon as the midnight countdown began Shae knelt on the floor and threw her arms around Tyrion snogging him passionately. Jaime stood alone - surrounded by drunk strangers. He looked across at the bar. Brienne was standing behind it, also quite alone, awkward and shy. She met his eyes and smiled at him. But Tyrion was tugging at him, pulling him down to the floor into a tight threeway hug. “Happy New Year brother” he said.

Then after they had established that no one knew the words to Auld Lang Syne there were fireworks outside over the sea. Some idiot started a conga line out through the pub’s double doors and lurching down onto the beach. Jaime wasn’t ready to join in - he wasn’t sure he would ever be drunk enough for a conga line and Tyrion said frankly that he would most likely be trampled. But Bronn was there - towards the head of the line, firmly grasping the hips of a blonde woman. She looked like she didn’t mind too much so that was okay. It was chaotic and noisy but good humoured. Brienne was still behind the bar. Jaime went over to her - “Why don’t you go outside?” he asked. She hesitated and then lifted the latch and slipped out. 

Out on the decking she watched the fireworks with almost childish delight. Her harsh features were alternately thrown into shadow and highlighted in different colours, making her look by turns grotesque, then beautiful then alien and strange. Jaime was fascinated. He took half a step towards her but the display was finishing. Her face resolved into plainness again. She looked very young. “Happy New Year” she said. He followed her back inside. “Can anyone do that?” he asked, pointing again at the Lucky Dip poster.  
“Of course,” she said. “Everyone’s welcome. It's meant to be Fancy Dress this year but you can wear anything really. Not jeans though. I’ll be there as the Blue Knight. And bring something warm for afterwards.” He nodded. “See you tomorrow then.”

Next morning Jaime woke late but less hungover than he expected. He hadn’t actually drunk that much when he thought about it. The house was still quiet. Tyrion and Shae were asleep and Bronn had last been seen in the carpark with the woman from the conga line whose name was apparently Lollipop. Which could not be her real name - it must be a nickname or worse a pet name Bronn had made up. He certainly seemed to enjoy licking her. 

Jaime dressed and made coffee, the scent of which roused Tyrion. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked. Jaime looked down at his dinner jacket. “Fancy Dress” he said. “Luckily I have been so conditioned by our ridiculous family that I brought it with me. I don’t have anything else so I am going as a handsome rich ne’er do well. I think it's quite convincing.”  
Tyrion drank his coffee. “The sea water will ruin it. But that’s maybe what you want.”  
By ten to noon a large crowd had gathered on the beach. Someone had marked out the swimming zone and there was a small boat just a little way offshore. Safety precautions were clearly being taken. All the Fancy Dress standards were there: at least seven men in dresses, three with flamboyant wigs and two with flamboyant padded bosoms. Plus some people in medical scrubs, a man completely wrapped in bandages, a saucy waitress and a bunny girl, a pantomime horse and a huge brown bear. The barwench was there in a high necked blue tunic and leggings. Jaime went to join her. “I thought you would be in armour as the Blue Knight,” he said. He realised it sounded stupid even as he said it. Her tunic was similar to the famous portrait that was also the pub sign. Brienne looked at him in astonishment. “Swim in armour? How would that even work?” Jaime shrugged - he hadn’t thought about the practicalities. He had just imagined her in armour - maybe he had dreamt it. “Plastic?” he ventured with a bright smile. A grade five - maybe even a six when combined with his dinner jacket. She laughed - so he hadn’t completely lost his touch. 

There was some kind of safety briefing by a man in high vis with a megaphone. Jaime still couldn’t hear it. “Basically don’t go in if you are drunk, can’t swim or have a heart condition and try not to drown,” explained Brienne. He began to feel oddly nervous - aware of both his heartbeat and the cold breeze against his skin. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?” She looked down at him briefly and nodded, a red flush creeping up the thick white column of her neck. She had the most beautiful eyes. 

Then a horn sounded and everyone stumbled towards the sea. Jaime followed Brienne who walked surely into the water. It was shockingly cold. Brienne stooped low, scooping water over her arms and chest. The dark fabric clung closely to her, her small pointy breasts visible. She went a couple of long steps further then leant forward and launched into a swimming stroke. He heard her gasp with the cold but she swam out - four, five, ten, twelve strokes he counted - before turning around swimming back to him where he stood hesitating in the shallows. “Go on,” she said. “It’s amazing - makes you feel so alive.” He took a cautious step towards her but then the stupid idiot in the bear suit who had been capering about behind him, jumping over the white lines of the breaking waves, jumped again and slipped and canyonned into him so that he fell forward. Automatically he put his useless foreshortened right arm out but Brienne caught him before he landed painfully on it. Her arm was all gooseflesh, clammy and chilled but she was strong and gentle. He leant against her young firm body for a minute to get his balance then turned towards her and ducked down into the water. The sea was heart jarringly cold, making his flesh cling to the hard iron of his bones. But he kicked off the pebbled ground and swam - two, three strokes, seven, eight then back. He couldn’t match the wench - but he could swim a little. When he stood up he was laughing and exhilarated. Brienne was laughing too on the shore. Water ran down her legs and pooled beneath her feet on the sand. Her thin blonde hair straggled wetly down her back but her amazing eyes were ablaze. He pooled off the drenched suit jacket and wrapped himself in the thick towel he brought down with him, rubbing his arms and chest vigorously. He felt the blood surge back into his chilled limbs. The sky was clear blue and the sun was bright on the water. He could hear gulls calling and children playing and the wench still laughing in delight. 

“You see,” she said. “It's the best way to start the New Year.”  
“It is indeed,” he replied. “But now what’s next?”   
“Next you come back with me for hot chocolate and sausages.” 

And so he did.


End file.
